


I only know how to lie (I guess I really can't dodge it this time)

by Gingersnaps (K___P)



Series: It's not a war crime if you didn't set up the Geneva conventions [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Dead Wilbur Soot, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fundy-centric, Gen, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Hahahhehdheoooo y'all this is a fun one, Hurt/Comfort, Sad Floris | Fundy, Sad Wilbur Soot, man tagging is difficult, mmmmmm sorta, why's that not a tag :(, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27784516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K___P/pseuds/Gingersnaps
Summary: Tired of Ghostbur's avoidance of his memories, continuing to hurt people without realising, Fundy and Quackity take matters into their own hands.It doesn't turn out well.OR: the one in which quackity and fundy get closure, tubbo and phil get trauma speedrun, and ghostbur proves that anything can be forgotten if you try hard enough
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Wilbur Soot, Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Quackity & Fundy
Series: It's not a war crime if you didn't set up the Geneva conventions [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1991350
Comments: 43
Kudos: 293





	I only know how to lie (I guess I really can't dodge it this time)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in about one and a half hours then spent half an hour crying over tags and the cleanup process I hate writing
> 
> Anyway . Pog . I've been ill for the past 5 ish days
> 
> ALSO listen 2 ghost rule while ur reading this its so sexy . I was blasting the piano & guitar arrange by jayn when I wrote this

Wilbur looks at him, as if surprised by the raised voice, but Fundy refuses to back down. Beside him, Quackity remains, a steady presence. They need to do this - everyone else was happy to just ... to just let him get away with whatever he'd done without even trying to remind him of his actions. They were treating him like glass, without testing the limits of his memories.

"Son-?"

"Don't fuckin' call him son," Quackity snaps, eyes narrowing as he shoves forward. Even though Ghostbur - Wilbur - can't be hurt by them - can't even be touched by them - he backs away, blinking at the aggressive tone. "Look, you clearly don't remember just how bad you fucked up with him, but that _doesn't_ mean you didn't hurt him."

"I..." He glances, unsure, between Quackity and Fundy, fiddling with the sleeves of his sweater. It was disconcerting to see such an open emotion on his face, more youthful than Wilbur had been during L'manburg's prime. "What- What did I do?"

Of all the things he'd expected, it ... Hadn't been that. "Huh?"

"Look, s- ... Fundy, you keep telling me I avoid my problems, but I want to _talk_ to you again." Ghostbur's tone is bordering on pleading, and he turns to Quackity; Fundy can't speak, reeling in shock. "So, please, just ... Tell me."

From the corner of his eye, Quackity sends him a panicked look; neither had expected to get this far. Taking a deep breath, Fundy turns to face Wilbur head on. "We should go somewhere else. Do you know where Pogtopia is?"

(He pretends not to hear Wilbur ask what Pogtopia is. He doesn't want to think about what that could mean, for Tommy and for New L'manburg, if he doesn't remember that.)

\---

As they arrive at Tommy's so-called intimidation tower, Wilbur gravitates towards a certain spot on the wall, blinking owlishly at it. He lifts a hand to poke at it, only for his face to drop when it simply sinks through the dirt.

"I think the door is through here." His voice is quiet, quieter than Fundy's ever heard it. Sure enough, a bit of pushing reveals a broken-down door, with a dusty bed and half-open chests covering most of the floor.

In silence, the three of them descend the winding staircase, light fading as they reach the cavern. Almost all of the torches are gone, leaving the ravine stretching out endlessly into the abyss. Both Quackity and Fundy find themselves squinting, grazing one hand across the wall and testing each step before taking it.

Ahead of them, Wilbur glows ever so slightly, a ghost light in an abandoned theatre.

For a moment there is no movement, as they watch Wilbur stare at a covered-up hole in the wall, just before the cracked frame of the Portal, and then at an archway that spilled out light. There is a quiet yip, and the spell is broken; Wilbur turns to a fence, crouching next to the fox still beneath it with a small smile. 

A pit forms in his stomach at the sight, all too familiar to be comfortable, and he looks away, gritting his teeth. Quackity brushes his shoulder as he passes, grimace somehow supportive, and sets about lighting a campfire.

He can feel a smile tugging at his lips; a torch or lantern would've been fine, but Quackity had argued about the atmosphere, and that was that. About halfway down the ravine was a set of chests and furnaces, which Wilbur had settled on, and from one came the supplies for a campfire.

They sit in an anticipatory silence while the fire catches, then wait a bit more, none of them sure where to start. The anger that had been driving Fundy was dwindling, overpowered by the urge to just run into his father's arms for the first time in years. 

Quackity, however, had no such reservations.

"You remember an election, right?" When Wilbur opens his mouth, he simply ploughs on, sending him a dirty look. "Yeah, I know, you think you won. Thought you could rig it and all that, yeah? Tommy told me. 

"Well, you didn't. You tried to use me, if you didn't win, but Schlatt offered me a better deal. So maybe this whole shit is my fault, too, but I actually fuckin' atoned. You and Tommy lost, and got kicked outta Man- L'manburg. Everyone else was forced to stay under Schlatt's thumb.

"Now, this is the part I don't fuckin' get, Wilbur, Ghostbur, whatever. According to Tommy, you were sane as ever those first weeks, but refused to get help. The fuck's up with that, eh? Why'd you ditch Niki and Tubbo,?"

Fundy looks up from where he'd been fiddling with his nails. Quackity's voice had been steady, though a sort of bitterness was underlying the words, and his gaze was focused entirely on Wilbur. For his part, Wilbur was staring at the fox (Mushroom, his mind supplied, not Fungi), lips drawn in a flat line.

At his pause, he looks up, and Fundy's surprised to see distress in the draw of his eyebrows. "I- I think something's coming back, but I- I wouldn't have left Niki in L'manburg, right? Weren't they raising her taxes or something?"

Quackity nods. "Yeah, she refused to listen to Schlatt, and he wasn't all that happy. You didn't do shit for Tubbo, either, and look where that got him! Almost had a ghost buddy, Wilbur.

"I don't really know much of what happened, 'cept you went batshit insane. You went completely off the deep end, telling Tommy you wanted to blow up Manburg, then promising you wouldn't. You don't put that kinda shit on a child, man! He still has _nightmares_ about it, I can tell every time he looks at your crater."

Wilbur's light flickers, briefly, and he buries his face in his hands. For a moment, he's completely transparent, the gashes on his chest a startling red. But then it's over, and when he looks up, his eyes are haunted.

He looks almost similar to the Wilbur they knew when he was alive, though before the Election Exiling and all that occured thereafter. No, he looked like post-L'Manburg war Wilbur, still recovering from the shellshock and betrayals and victory alike. 

It's an uncomfortable look on Wilbur, especially when he looks so much younger than he did, somewhere between his actual age and Tommy's. 

Even so, when he speaks, his voice is rough but clear. "What else did I do."

Quackity sends him another glance, and he can tell why; this is the first time he refuses to make a distinction between his Ghostbur state and his living actions. A part of Fundy is glad that they're making at least some progress, but another still feels uneasy.

The former vice-president, clearly, has no such reservations.

"What, apart from emotionally manipulating Tommy and Tubbo for ... weeks? Months? Making them take all the pressure for the resistance while you made deals with Dream? Y'know, the dude who fuckin' killed Tommy and burned Tubbo's house to the ground? 

"Or what about every time you promised them you'd use the bombs as a last resort, promised everyone that they'd be safe? Or the festival, where Tubbo fucking died because you were too busy being up your own ass?"

By now, Quackity's voice had lost any hesitation or gentleness it had started with (which wasn't a lot, either; he'd refused to sugarcoat his words). He was almost spitting with anger, frustration and guilt blending together into a cocktail of emotions. Across from him, Wilbur's face had gone entirely blank, a complete contrast.

Fundy's unease was growing, and he drew back in on himself as the tense silence drew on. Mushroom sat on his lap, curling into the warmth, so he runs his knuckles over its head. 

"And y'know what the worst part of all this is? Both Tommy and Tubbo would still follow you to the ends of the earth. Niki would do anything to get you back. Eret wants to atone for what he did, and Phil can barely look at his own sons out of guilt. And what do you do, huh? You just sit there and rub salt into the wound, but leave the minute people actually _you to stay._

__

__

"Have you apologised to anyone? Huh?" Quackity's voice was low, unforgiving and unwavering. Fundy wished he could do the same; he knew his voice would probably shake, or that Wilbur would just fucking brush him off with a giggle.

But ... Looking at him, Wilbur didn't seem like he was in the mood for smiling. His shine had faded to a dull glow, moody in the darkness of the cavern, and his face was scrunched up.

A wave of indignation washed over him - how dare Wilbur look so dejected, when he'd done nothing to deserve it? While Quackity and Fundy had both done more than their fair share of wrongs, they had made up for it in the end, yet Wilbur had just made a new identity and hid behind it.

Like a coward, his mind supplied.

"Do you even know what you did to me?" He hisses, and Quackity smiles at him with a mixture of pride and encouragement. Wilbur, for the first time in ... too long, looks up, meeting his eyes. "Do you know how fucking hard I worked to gain Schlatt's trust, just to get shunned by you and Tommy?

"Do you even remember just how much you ignored me? Shrugged me off and laughed at me? Does it-" he lets out a frustrated laugh, only because he'd otherwise sob, "Does it even matter to you?! Was I.."

He quietens, suddenly, the fight draining out of him.

"Was I not worth living for?"

Wilbur opens his mouth to protest, then shuts it. "...I can't speak for myself when I was alive." 

Fundy lets out a derisive scoff, standing up abruptly. "Of course you can't. It's always the avoidance, isn't it? You can never give me a straight answer, even on something like this."

With that, he sweeps out of the ravine, cradling Mushroom in his arms as he goes. Quackity follows soon after, neither bothering to say goodbye to Wilbur as they leave. 

Stepping out into the glorious sunlight, they realise just how clammy the ravine was, and take a few moments just to breathe in the crisp air. Down there, ambient sounds were a constant source of paranoia, caves plagued by creepers and skeletons, tunnels winding and neverending. Up here, though, the singing of the birds is calming, and they set off to New L'manburg in higher spirits.

"For the record, Fundy," Quackity starts, grinning under his beanie as they approach the houses, "I think you did real good back there. I'm pretty sure he actually remembered it all."

"...thanks, man. Means a lot." 

With that, Quackity leaves, shouting something over his shoulder about ruining George's day as revenge. Fundy is left in the middle of the marketplace, Mushroom in his arms, sinking feeling ever stronger. He lifts Mushroom, looking the fox in the eye.

"Did we do the right thing, Mushroom?" He asks it, kicking at the sign on the music stand as he passes by.

\---

(Wilbur doesn't leave Pogtopia all night, staring at the unnaturally lit potato farm, a weight on his shoulders. Memories rush past, each too quick to grasp, painting a picture that he's scared to see.

He doesn't want to believe it, but he can hear his own maniacal laughter, can feel the rough wood of the button, can see the glint of Techno's crossbow. He doesn't want to believe it, but he knows Fundy wouldn't lie to him.

He puts his head in his hands, and thinks.

There's only one place where he'll be guaranteed closure.)

\---

Tubbo and Phil jump at the crash that comes from the direction of New L'manburg, barely glancing at each other before they rush towards it. Along the way, they're joined by Fundy and Quackity, both looking tired and drawn.

There's a hole in the wall, Tubbo realises, a cold hand gripping his heart at the sight of the familiar, manic scribbles exposed to light. Beside him, Phil falters, too many emotions flashing across his face to name, and Quackity gulps.

Fundy's face is set, even as it pales.

Inside, they hear strained hums, the hoarse voice familiar. Widening the gap, Tubbo sags in relief at the sight of Wilbur tottering around, cleaning up the rubble on the floor as he hums.

"Wilbur!" Comes a shout from outside, Phil appearing in the room next, with Fundy and Quackity lurking in the gap. "What happened? Why are you in here?"

There's a beat or two of silence, in which they all stare at Wilbur, and he blinks back.

"Who's Wilbur?"

**Author's Note:**

> My entire premise for this was "what if someone told Wilbur what he did wrong, so his whole identity became a Bad Memory, and he forgets all of it?"
> 
> Anyway this is technically leading in2 another fic I'm working on which is sexy of me


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